


Lines

by my_deer_friend



Series: My Deer Kinktober 2020 [1]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, Hand Jobs, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Painplay, everyone has a good time, predicament, writing lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:46:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26746825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_deer_friend/pseuds/my_deer_friend
Summary: Washington tries to teach his aide some manners.--(Prompt 1 - handjob, Whamilton)
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/George Washington
Series: My Deer Kinktober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947265
Comments: 18
Kudos: 64





	Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by a Tumblr anon <3

“I did not give you permission to stop writing, Colonel.”

Hamilton’s quill trembles in his hand. He’s raised it for just a second, but that is all it takes for Washington’s iron fingers to squeeze painfully around his cock through the fabric of his breeches. 

There’s nowhere to flee from the agonising pressure. He is boxed in by the heavy desk he is standing in front of, and Washington’s entire bulk behind him, and the inescapable fact that this powerful hand holds him fast by his most sensitive parts. 

He swallows his groan, but cannot entirely muffle the hissed inhale. 

The parchment before him is a mess of stray lines and blotted ink. There is already an incoherent tangle of words written across it, over and over - and yet, it seems he has still not grasped the lesson Washington is trying to instil to the General’s satisfaction.

“Sir, _please,_ ” he whines through clenched teeth. The muscles in his thighs are trembling with the effort of staying up on his toes to get clear of the pain. His cock is throbbing desperately.

“Again,” Washington commands, and the squeeze becomes just a little tighter. “From the beginning.”

Hamilton’s instinct is to tilt his hips away, but that will just serve to press the cock jutting into him more firmly against his buttocks. Washington has infinite control over his passions, but he is not above jamming Hamilton’s bruised hip bones even harder into the desk if he suspects his aide is attempting a seduction as a means of escape from his lesson. 

Besides, that sort of violence would just make him stiffen further. Hamilton’s only hope is to smother his own arousal enough that his cock becomes a less tempting target - but this is laughably futile because the General knows exactly how much discomfort to inflict to keep him balanced perfectly on the edge.

“ _Again,_ Colonel,” Washington insists.

So he does the only thing that has any hope of freeing him. He leans more heavily on his left hand, arm shaking with strain, and dips his quill into the half-spilled ink pot again. He doesn’t bother trying to tap away the excess ink - he’s just going to splatter it everywhere, anyway, and legibility is not the goal.

Hamilton sets the point of the quill down on the paper and starts to write.

_I will hold my tongue--_

\--except that he misspells _tongue_ and then blots ink everywhere as he tries to correct the mistake. He starts again, the feathered tip of the quill trembling visibly.

_I will hold my tongue in the presence of my superiors--_

And…

_\--I will be professional and diplomatic and--_

The nib wobbles erratically for a second. He loses the thread. Think, Hamilton!

Ah, yes...

_\--I will not insult a Major General to his face and--_

And?

He forgets the rest of it. Fuck!

There’s nothing legible on the page that he can use to prompt him, so he winces in anticipation and whispers, “Sir?”

Washington, of course, has noted his dilemma already. Hamilton flinches as the fingers around him shift. The grip actually eases a little - but he is not naive enough to be fooled by this false reprieve.

“And,” Washington growls, and suddenly the hand is not gripping, but stroking - hard, fast, the movement elegantly designed to inflame his arousal but irregular and uncomfortable enough to prevent his release. Hamilton grunts in surprise at this sudden change. “‘I will obey my General when he gives me a command’. You are almost done.”

All at once, he realises the infernal dilemma Washington has designed. 

If he complies and writes this last fragment quickly enough, the lesson will be over. But then the cruel touch will withdraw just as it is building his pleasure - and if Washington is still genuinely annoyed about his earlier outburst, Hamilton will be sent to his cot, where Laurens must already be sleeping, achingly hard and with clear instructions not to take matters into his own hands. 

Or he could disobey - for the second time today, like he disobeyed Washington’s earlier command to be silent, and instead jumped to his feet to eviscerate Lee in front of everybody for his slander and shameful conduct - and extend this abuse long enough for Washington to finish him here, in his breeches.

The question, really, is - how much of Washington’s ire is genuine? 

And how much of it is merely a facade covering the vindication that he is not permitted to display, and the pride he feels toward Hamilton for daring to say out loud what everybody else was already whispering in private?

Hamilton suspects he knows the answer.

Trying to steady his panting breaths, he dips his quill again, then lowers it to the paper and starts to write this last fragment. But the moment he finishes the curling sweep of _obey_ , he blots his ink on purpose, then smears his thumb through it.

Washington makes a deep, indecipherable rumble. The hand on his cock does not relent for a second.

“Colonel?”

Hamilton grits his teeth, then grinds back against his General’s shaft. 

“I’m afraid, sir,” he groans, “That I am finding it-- _impossible_ to obey instructions tonight.”

Washington stays silent, but his fingers squeeze and dig in, palm pressing down, wrist twisting just so. Hamilton’s inhale hitches in his throat. Pleasure and pain are evenly matched for a dozen thudding heartbeats, but then - pleasure inches ahead. It will take a while before it pulls far enough into the lead for him to welcome the release. But he has all night, and he always did love to revise his lessons.

He steels his jaw, and permits himself a small, pleading whimper.

“Again,” Washington growls.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not gonna say this was inspired by DreamLittleYo's works, but I'm not gonna _not_ say that either...


End file.
